


Crown (wear my love like a)

by MercuryM



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Courtship, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Kinda, Misunderstandings, Rituals, Romance, Tattoos, grounder!bellamy, grounder!octavia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3387524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryM/pseuds/MercuryM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clarke agreed to enter a courtship with the Commander's second-in-command, she had no idea what was awaiting her but she figured it couldn't be <em>that</em> bad. But when the gifts started coming and the silly rules were laid, when some of the Grounders tried to sabotage her and she found herself on a different sort of a battlefield, the whole deal became a lot more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to my new (and hopefully) multi-chaptered story.
> 
> Before you start reading, I want to point out that **the timeline of this story is quite messed up compared to canon and there are events that either never happened or had a different outcome** , but I think this is to be expected since Bellamy and Octavia both played a big role in how season 1 shaped to be, and I've made them Grounders. This said, some characters won't act as canon as we know them from the show. I **won't** be going in details how Clarke and the rest came to be where they are right now because I don't think it will be necessary to the plot, but past actions and events will occasionally bleed through.
> 
> Also, I want to say that this fic will see a lot of Clarke/Wells/Murphy leadership dynamics and if you have a problem with that, then this story is not for you. The background relationships will be Octavia/Lincoln with possible Miller/Monty and Murphy/Emori (but for now I haven't decided if I should go there or not).
> 
> The current rating is T but in the later chapters it's quite possible **to go up to M**.
> 
> The title is inspired by The Cab - Crown. That all said, I hope you find this to your liking and would like more of it.
> 
> Special thanks to [Jade](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BellarkeHugged/pseuds/BellarkeHugged) for being awesome and agreeing to beta this for me!
> 
> Also, **I absolutely refuse to have my story hosted on wattpad, goodreads or any other site!**

The air was blowing in her face like tiny, freezing knives biting at her exposed cheeks and nose. Clarke’s flimsy jacket did nothing to protect her from the cold element and one of her Grounder guards gave her an uncharacteristic sympathetic look.

Great, so she _did_ look as miserable as she felt.

Damn, it had been so much easier up on the Ark – constant temperatures, no risk of getting sunburn, no freezing temperatures at night or hellish rainstorms, no acid fog (even though the acid fog was no more). And with what was supposed to be Earth’s winter season getting closer, they were experiencing a drastic drop in the temperatures and white frost in the mornings.

As such, Clarke was unusually grateful when they neared the borders of the Ark station and the gate opened in front of her, letting her and one of the Grounder guards to pass. She had the courtesy to turn around and thank the rest even if they didn’t seem to care much about her. Clarke still wasn’t sure if their indifference was a good or a bad thing.

While the Grounders and Arkers alike had defeated the Mountain Men, and had brought justice to their doorstep for their abducted and abused people, the temporary peace between the two factions was just that – _temporary_. It was more stable than the one Clarke and Wells had managed to conclude with Anya few weeks ago, but the Commander – Octavia – was a wild card and Clarke had a hard time getting a read on her. It helped them somehow that they had managed to save in time her brother from the hands of the Mountain Men (not that he wasn’t doing a splendid job getting himself free); now, Octavia seemed more inclined to forge a long lasting peace treaty with them.

Especially considering her latest offer. And it was an offer Clarke couldn’t slither her way out of or try to negotiate. Of course, she could always decline, but in a sense Octavia was offering her the highest possible honor Clarke could receive as an outsider and that was marriage to a Grounder and not just any Grounder, no, it was a marriage to Octavia’s second-in-command – her brother. The same brother that – from Monty and Miller’s stories – was like a hellhound unleashed and one of the best warriors the Grounders possessed (she was afraid to ask how had they learned that).

It was a lot to take in and she had less than twenty-four hours to think it over. Indra, her Grounder guard for today, was with her for this exact purpose – to make sure that Clarke really was thinking about it and to remind her that refusing wouldn’t be a smart choice to make.

It would be a foolish move to refuse, Clarke knew, especially with the way Octavia’s eyes had narrowed when she had found out that her mother – Abby – and Kane planned on establishing peace with the survivors in Mount Weather (who weren’t many once the Grounders were done with them) and wanted to find a way to make it possible for them to live on the ground. They were walking on thin ice here, and Clarke wasn’t sure her mother realized that.

Abby was so set on seeing her daughter as a kid that she forgot the many things Clarke had lived through to survive; it didn’t help that the Grounders refused to accept any other authority that wasn’t Clarke, even when they learned that Kane was the Chancellor and technically he was the one speaking on behalf of the Ark people. Still, bless Kane for being the more level headed out of the two - he readily cooperated with Clarke when it came to Grounder matters.

With Wells and Raven standing firmly behind her back, combined with Murphy’s sarcastic, but spot on jabs and Miller and Monty’s unwavering faith that Clarke could handle this, and the times she couldn’t – they were there to help – her mother could clench her teeth with displeasure as many times as she wanted; nothing was going to change.

Indra’s suspicious gaze didn’t waver even when they entered the Ark station; if it was possible she grew even tenser. They might not be at war with each other, but Indra was one of the most skeptical people Clarke knew, and she was somewhat friends with one John Murphy. Over the past few days Clarke had been almost exclusively amongst Grounders and the sound of Indra’s sword hitting her bone chest plate was almost soothing and it helped remind her that she had nowhere to hurry for, worry for, Mount Weather had been defeated and while their future was still uncertain, for now she could rest and enjoy the peace.

As she suspected, once she entered her private quarters, Wells had his arms around her, engulfing her in his embrace and nearly lifting her off the ground.

Clarke laughed and wrapped her arms around his back, squeezing just as tightly. They hadn’t seen each other since the final battle because Wells had taken a bullet meant for Clarke when one of the Mountain Men guards had tried to assassinate her. Thankfully, it hadn’t been fatal even if he would have to use a cane for a while – bullets to the abdomen were tricky like that.

“And the prodigal son returns. Or should I say daughter?”

Wells let her go and she smiled; behind him, leaning against one of the walls, Murphy was using a knife to clean the dirt from beneath his fingers.

“It’s good to see you too, Murphy, did you miss me?”

He rolled his eyes, but Wells interrupted his no doubt nasty remark and said “I did.”

“Of course he did. Lover boy here was moping when I got back, greedy for any news concerning your persona.” Murphy had been part of Clarke’s team that had entered Mount Weather but he got back to the Ark station a day before Clarke, leading the injured parties to receive the kind of medical treatment that the Grounders couldn’t provide.

Wells glared at that and reached for his cane, shaking it warningly at Murphy, who bared his teeth and sheathed his knife.

Indra cleared her throat and Clarke nearly jumped – she had completely forgotten that the Grounder was standing behind her.

Murphy tensed at this – he never liked the Grounders courtesy of nearly getting killed by one – and Wells caught Clarke’s elbow and led her to one of the chairs.

“Is something wrong?” He looked at Indra, and then to Clarke.

“Octavia – the Commander that is – made me an offer.”

Wells fingers locked around his cane with such strength that his knuckles went white and he opted to sit on the other chair, leaving Murphy to stand over them, which Wells wasn’t happy about; then again, Clarke was pretty sure that those two would never see eye to eye unless, weirdly enough, it concerned her safety in some way.

“Well?” Murphy was never one for patience.

Clarke sighed and eased back in her chair trying to find a comfortable position, but the metal provided no such luxury for her sore muscles. Postponing the conversation was a waste of time and if she tried, Clarke was pretty sure Murphy was going to take out his knife again.

“I am to wed one of the Grounders.”

“You’re to be courted,” Indra corrected her before Wells and Murphy could process the meaning of Clarke’s words.

“Come again?” Murphy’s voice had gone cold and vicious and his eyes were spitting poison towards Indra, who put her hand on her sword.

“ _Murphy_.” Wells looked at him but he had tensed just as much as Murphy had, if not more. “What does that mean?”

Clarke waved one tired hand at Indra, and the Grounder was kind enough to explain; Clarke hadn’t really understood it the first time Octavia had suggested it anyway.

“The Commander offered Clarke of the Sky People a way we could join our people together, _permanently_.” By her tone, it was obvious to Clarke just how much Indra was against this. “Clarke is to enter a courtship with the Commander’s own brother – Bellamy – and if the courtship is successful, they’re to join spirits under the moon with the Commander’s blessing.”

Murphy and Wells turned to her for clarification, but Clarke could only shrug helplessly. Octavia had also used the word courtship, and rituals and something about gifts and Clarke proving herself worthy, but the bottom line was clear – marriage Grounders’ style.

Murphy laughed. “Our princess finally found a prince, _lover_ boy.” It was mean and mocking, yet, Clarke cherished the familiarity of it, despite the fact that she glared at him. Now was not the time for him to act like an asshole.

“You’re thinking of accepting.” Wells always saw right through her.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try.” Her smile was more a quirk of her lips than a smile.

Wells licked his lips and his leg bounced up and down while he thought it over. Clarke knew what conclusion he would come to – the same as hers – declining would lose them Octavia’s patronage and the other Grounders wouldn’t take the insult lightly, while accepting solidified their peace treaty and guaranteed their safety for as long as Octavia stayed the Commander. It was a good bargain, if Clarke could call it that, and the price wasn’t that high. Wells’ look disagreed with that thought – he always wanted the best for her and seeing her trapped in a marriage with a Grounder was not his definition of a happy Clarke – but he nodded nonetheless, face scrunched with reluctance.

Murphy huffed; unhappy with the situation, his only comment was “Do we get to see you in a dress?”

Clarke flipped him her middle finger and with that the tense atmosphere eased, and Indra dropped her hand from her sword.

There was begrudging respect in her eyes, but Clarke wasn’t sure if that was due to her decision to accept or because of the way she mediated Wells and Murphy’s clashes.

That out of the way, Clarke steered the conversation to a more concerning topic.

“How are the others?” It had barely been two days since they had managed to rescue the abducted group of delinquents from Mount Weather.

Some hadn’t survived – like Harper – and others were recovering – Monty was in pretty bad condition, and Miller wasn’t faring any better.

“We’re losing him.”

Clarke closed her eyes and let Wells words register. Finn, idealistic bright Finn, who always tried too hard, was on his death bed because he had rushed headfirst into Mount Weather to try and save their friends after a heated argument with Raven. A foolish move because he had gotten caught, but not before he had managed to disable the acid fog and thus making way for Octavia’s Grounder army and Clarke’s armed volunteers to siege the bunker and win the war. By the time they had found him, along with the other delinquents, it had been too late. The doctor had done something to him more awful than bone marrow extraction and while her mother and Jackson were trying their best to reverse it, so far they had no luck.

Raven had been struck with rage, so strong and blinding that she had wrestled Murphy’s gun off his hands and had put a bullet between the doctor’s eyes. It didn’t help Finn, but nobody tried to stop her either (those who could – Abby, Kane – were miraculously absent from the scene). Miller had even patted her on the back and Monty had nodded when the news reached him; he still blamed himself for Harper.

Nyko, one of the Grounders’ healers, had offered her a small glass jar. Clarke knew what was in it and she planned on giving it to Raven. Finn was Raven’s whole world, and the choice to end his suffering or _believe_ in his survival was hers to make.

“My mother?”

Wells shook his head. “Whatever that doctor did to him makes it so all his systems shut down one by one.”

Murphy suddenly smirked gleefully. “Now there’s a thought – who’s going to tell mommy that her dear daughter is getting married?”

Clarke groaned and got to her feet. “I can’t. I have to get back at Octavia about my decision.”

Wells gaped at that and also stood. “No, Clarke, _no_. She hates me as it is!”

She mentally winced – she might have the habit of letting Wells deliver the bad news to her mother (in her defence her relationship with Abby was just getting worse with every conversation they had) – and mentally thanked Indra when she opted not to comment; the Commander had, after all, given her twenty-four hours.

“Lies, she thinks you’re the only sane one amongst us.” And sometimes, between Murphy’s darker ways to achieve their aims and Clarke’s near reckless risks, Wells really was the crowd control, and the only one rational enough to stop their more dangerous endeavors.

It was strange how the three of them came to lead and balance each other (and Murphy and Wells could barely be civil to one another without Clarke being in the room). But it worked, it worked _really_ well.

She left Wells shouting harmless threats behind her and took the turn for the medical bay; might as well see how Finn was doing with her own eyes.

Murphy jogged up to catch with her and Indra was not far behind. He emitted hostility, but for once refrained from baiting the Grounder (he had a nasty habit of doing that; he never got over the two arrows to his arm or the sword that nearly took his head off).

“Are you sure?” Clarke sparred him a glance – he looked completely serious.

“I’m willing to give it – _him_ – a try. It’s the least I can do.”

He wasn’t so convinced. “Do you even know what he looks like? From the rumors I’ve heard he smiles like a beast that’s about to jump you and tear you apart.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, but inched closer to him; she appreciated the fact that he cared, even if he showed it in his twisted fucked up way.

“At least he smiles.”

Murphy’s smile was sharp and showed too many teeth. “One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.”

“I guess I’ll have to look beneath the smile then.” _Like I looked beneath your biting words and violent nature._

“A Grounder.”

She smiled at that. “Wait until you fall for a Grounder girl.”

He made a face, “As if,” and let her brave the medical bay door alone.

It was symbolic somehow – opening the door, possibly ending one life, possibly beginning a new one. Entering the unknown and expecting chaos, that was what the marriage, the _courtship_ , was to her and Clarke hated feeling out of control. But if she was to join souls with this _Bellamy_ (or whatever the Grounders understood as a marriage ceremony), she would do it on her terms, and in a way that he would respect her and her wishes.

Indra stayed behind as she went to hug Raven and check on Finn. Raven’s eyes were wet when Clarke gave her the glass jar, but she nodded and accepted it despite her disinclination to use it. Her determination, devotion and love for Finn sometimes left Clarke breathless, and she often wondered what it would be like to be loved to such degree.

Maybe – she looked at Indra and tried to remember what Bellamy looked like with no luck – she would find out.

And maybe getting married wouldn’t be so bad and scary after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated because I'm still uncertain how this is going to be received and if I should continue writing in this universe or not.
> 
> \- M.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just...I'm blow away by your feedback and support! **You're all amazing precious people and I have no words to express how much I cherish you all!** Thank you so much.
> 
> A lot of you mentioned how much you've enjoyed the Clarke/Wells/Murphy leadership trio and it made me squeal with happiness. Hopefully, we'll get more of it soon :) + brownie points to the two reviewers that noticed Murphy's Shakespearean quote!
> 
> This will officially continue as a multi-chaptered story. Again, thanks to [Jade](http://theblakes.co.vu/) for being a wonderful beta.

In the end, Clarke never made it to Octavia right away.

Raven was in a bad place and Clarke was reluctant to leave her alone, hunched over Finn’s pale form, looking as if she was the one wasting away. But despite Clarke’s attempts to get her out of the medical bay, Raven stayed where she was, jar clenched tightly in her hand.

Clarke had forgotten how much a loved one’s demise could cripple you. Her father getting floated had destroyed her whole world, and while Finn was still breathing, Clarke had to wonder how long until his will to live would no longer be enough to keep him alive. She tried to shake off the morbid thoughts, but sitting in the medical bay with Raven only served to make her nauseous, and Clarke had to get out.

Indra gave her a curious look when, instead of going to the main gate, Clarke took one of the inner junctions and headed deeper into the Ark station.

Wick was more than happy to welcome them. The distraction, apparently, had been craved from both sides, because he threw aside his protective gear and pulled out some designs. Clarke let his enthusiasm and gesticulation distract her as he went on and on about the new antenna he was going to put up soon. Most of the technical talk went over her head but from what she gathered, the news were good – without Mount Weather jamming their signal, the new antenna would allow them to use radios and walkie-talkies to further distances than before. And, as Wick helpfully pointed out, if he could convince Kane to give him access to the Mountain Men’s satellite disk, he could route the signal from there and magnify it at least four times, making it cover even more ground.

Clarke was all for it – fast communication was _always_ a plus.

Once she was equipped with a new radio (she had lost her walkie-talkie in the last battle), Clarke and Indra made their way out. She paused on the threshold and Wick gave her a wave.

“Do me a favour.”

Wick looked confused by her serious tone and his trademark half-smile disappeared.

“Make Raven help you with the antenna.”

“But it’s rea- oh.” He straightened up and looked back to his designs. “I’m sure she’ll have few colourful words to say about the inefficiency of my plan.”

Clarke smiled gratefully, and left him to tinker with his gadgets.

“What now, Sky girl?”

Indra looked no less tired than Clarke felt – suddenly it was as if everything from the past few days was catching up to her and weighing down on her bones, making her feel drained and sleepy.

“Are you hungry?”

“For your bleak lumpy porridge? I would prefer to starve.”

Indra had a point – very few of the Ark people had learned how to hunt successfully, and usually what they managed to catch was never enough for all of them. With the Grounders gone, and the Greenhouse still in repairs, the Ark station was embarrassingly short on food supplies and resorted to the powdered porridge they used to serve up in space.

Clarke was beyond sick of it.

“Sleep it is then.” Clarke’s room was occupied, but there were more than enough empty rooms sitting around.

“And the Commander?”

Clarke was too tired to pick her words carefully. “She’ll wait; she did give me a whole day to decide after all.”

The Grounder by her side huffed, clearly unhappy with her response, but her sword stayed put and she didn’t do anything else to voice her displeasure. Clarke counted it as a win.

The first room Clarke tried was barren save for two air beds and a chair and that was all they needed, really. Indra looked amused when Clarke jammed the door shut with the chair, but Clarke didn’t miss the placement of Indra’s sword and how easy it was to reach with a moment’s notice. Peace treaty or not, Clarke had the feeling that Indra would always expect the worse when it came to dealing with the Ark people. She wanted to change that, but right now she lacked the energy to do anything about it. Maybe time would help them all come to trust each other. But for now –

“This courtship, Octavia said it has rules?” She left the question hanging and watched as Indra laid on the bed without taking off her armour.

The Grounder considered her for a moment before dismissing her and her question as unimportant and closed her eyes. Clarke scowled; so much for being friendly.

Just as Clarke was dropping off to sleep, she heard Indra shifting around. “Don’t accept any gifts unless they are from Bellamy. It’s considered bad luck.”

Clarke allowed herself a small smile – they were making progress. Indra’s soft sigh as she relaxed on the air bed was another point to Clarke.

-

Waking up in the middle of the day, after she had slept in her clothes and had gone to bed hungry, was an awful feeling, but it was still better than being sleep deprived. Indra, on the other hand, didn’t seem to approve of her logic.

Leaving the Ark station unnoticed was harder than Clarke had anticipated it to be at this time of the day, and that was how Kane managed to literally stumble into them.

“Clarke? When did you get back?”

Clarke hid her disappointed sigh and nodded politely in return – she had been hoping to put off this confrontation for _at least_ another day or two.

“Just this morning. The Commander agreed on a peace treaty.”

“She did?” Kane’s surprised tone made few people stop and stare, until he waved them off. “Maybe we should take this elsewhere.”

Out of options, Clarke and Indra followed him to the Council’s room where they sat down around the table (or in Indra’s case – hovered over Clarke’s shoulder).

“What did she say? What did she want?”

Kane was a practical man and as such Clarke didn’t need to beat around the bush with him. “Her demand was simple – I’ll be marrying a Grounder and the peace treaty will be signed.”

Kane opened his mouth to say something, but then reconsidered and closed it. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the round table and looked Clarke straight in the eyes, searching for something.

“Do you think it’s a wise choice to accept?”

Clarke’s grin was sardonic. “Do you think it’s a wise choice to decline?”

Kane rolled his shoulders and his Chancellor pin glinted under the pale lights. “No, I suppose not. Still, you don’t have to accept. We’ll figure something out.”

Indra bristled at that but Clarke shook her head. “It’s fine, I’ve already decided.”

“Your mother won’t be happy with this.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He looked so much older than he appeared mere minutes before. “I’ll talk to her.”

This time, her smile was genuine. “Thank you.”

As if summoned by their thoughts, Abby burst into the room, angry and purposeful, her eyes glinting dangerously; Wells was not far behind.

“Marcus, Clarke has gone and-“ She stopped when she saw that Kane was far from alone.

Clarke pushed her chair back and stood up, bracing herself for the confrontation. Wells shrugged his shoulders helplessly when she looked at him, and leaned on the wall next to the door.

“This is outrageous! You’re not marrying a Grounder!” Abby advanced towards Clarke with every word and Clarke fought to keep calm under her apparent disapproval. “Tell the Commander to figure something else out because I refuse to let you do this.”

“Abby, let’s not-“

“ _You_ can’t forbid me from doing anything.” Clarke’s voice cut across Kane’s words, and he lifted his hands in surrender.

“You’re a child, _my child_ and I-“

Clarke stepped forward, her gaze challenging and spitting fire. “I was not your child when you sent me down here, I was not your child when you expected me to survive and fight against the Grounders, and I was not your child when I did unfathomable things while I fought the Mountain Men and rescued my friends. You need to stop this; stop treating me as a kid when it’s beneficial to your words and as an adult when you need me to get something done.”

The slap echoed into the room and Indra drew her sword from her sheath not a second later, the sharp tip pointing at Abby, daring her to try that again. Wells had come closer, but a look from Clarke halted his steps.

The sting on her cheek hurt less than the disappointment caused by her mother. Clarke bit her tongue until blood filled her mouth and the bile of words stuck in her throat went away – she had hoped that maybe for _once_ her mother would let her explain before dismissing her words and wishes. This was just another rift in their relationship. She shouldn’t have expected anything else, yet she had, and the result was bitter for both sides.

Clarke pushed Indra’s sword down and ignoring her mother and her shocked face, addressed Kane as if nothing had happened. “Octavia will probably want to celebrate our union. I’ll let you know the details as soon as she lets me know.”

At this, Abby seemed to snap out of her thoughts and reached for Clarke, but Clarke jerked her hand away and nodded at Kane when he gave her a weary, “Okay.”

“Clarke-“ Clarke let Indra get between her back and her mother as she turned around and went for the door. “Clarke, _please_ , this is not-“

“I get it, mom, I really do. I’ll always be your little Clarke.” Wells finally reached her and squeezed her fingers in silent support. He was the reason Clarke found the strength to look back into the teary eyes of her mother and continue talking. “But I haven’t been little for a while now and that’s the reason why we don’t get along anymore.”

Clarke let Wells lead her out from the room. It wasn’t the first time she was thankful for having such a great friend who understood her with only a glance. Indra’s looming presence was also welcomed as the passerby’s seemed to flinch back from her sword and Grounder outfit.

Wells escorted them to the gates, not once slowing down despite his injury.

“I’m sorry, I _tried_ but she wouldn’t listen.”

She squeezed his fingers in gratitude – he hadn’t let go, and neither had she. “I know.”

“You know she only tries to look out for you.”

“ _Don’t_.”

He sighed, but dropped the topic nonetheless.

At the gates, two horses were waiting for them, and Clarke silently thanked the Grounders that had brought them here – horses always managed to cheer her up.  

“I’ll send Murphy to get you.”

Clarke wanted to protest – Murphy in Grounder’s territory just begged for trouble – but Wells expression brooked no arguments and she let her shoulders drop in defeat.

“Fine, tell him to take his time.” Wells smiled crookedly at that; they both knew that Murphy would be hurrying to get to Clarke the moment he was made aware that she was, once again, without a trusted escort (in his eyes, Grounder guards didn’t count).

“Will do; now get out of here.”

One of the horses neighed in agreement and Clarke petted his neck, before mounting the horse with one well-practiced motion.

Wells rolled his eyes at her and muttered “Show off,” under his nose.

Meanwhile, Indra’s patience had grown thin and with two nudges of her boots, her horse shot forward, gaining speed with every second, leaving Clarke and the station behind in a cloud of dust.

Clarke’s horse grew restless under her as well and – with one last look at Wells – Clarke grabbed the reins and urged her horse to follow Indra. The trees around her merged together and the cold wind ruffled her hair; Clarke imagined that this was what flying felt like.

-

The temporary war camp was still up and the Commander’s tent was glowing like a red beacon in the centre. The Grounders welcomed them warmly (Indra) and a bit hesitantly (Clarke).

Lincoln was there when Clarke got off her horse, and he was the one to lead her to the tent when Indra disappeared into the crowd of people that had gathered. He looked better since the last time she had seen him – new clothes and some water did wonders for his appearance (not that Clarke had been any better after the battle).

The tent was occupied by what Clarke now recognized as the different clan leaders, few personal guards and the Commander herself. The conversations quieted down to a murmur as Clarke and Lincoln made their way to the throne.

Lincoln moved to Octavia’s right side, and Clarke pretended not to feel the eyes boring holes into her back.

“Commander.”

Octavia’s lips curled into a small smile. “Clarke. Have you came to a decision?”

Clarke bit her lip and looked at her – Octavia still had her war paint and gear on, black hair done in thick braids, neck tattoo shining under the light of the torches, looking every inch of the leader she was despite the fact that she couldn’t be older than Clarke; effortless in her grace and confident in her skills, sharp and dangerous when she needed to be – this was the person, whose brother would become Clarke’s husband. And if this was Octavia in all her glory, what would Bellamy be like?

Hopefully somebody she could learn to live with.

“It would be an honour for me to enter a courtship with your brother.”

Octavia uncrossed her legs and leaned forward in her seat, her gaze intent and wholly focused on Clarke and Clarke only.

“Are you sure?”

Even the whispers of the other Grounders died down.

“I am.”

Octavia’s smirk was positively wicked as she stood up and looked at the Grounders. “Tomorrow we will celebrate the courtship between Clarke of the Sky people and my brother and second-in-command, Bellamy. Now go and let the rest of our people know that the Sky people will remain our allies. Every action taken against them will be an action taken against _me_.”

The tent erupted with cheering and booming as the Grounders shouted their approval, and hit their armours with their swords to create a primal beat that Clarke could feel resonating through her blood.

Octavia allowed them to continue for a moment longer, before motioning for them to stop. The Grounders gradually left the tent, sans for Lincoln who didn’t move from his place, and the scanting continued outside, where it became louder and wilder, and the ground vibrated with the beat of their feet.

Once they were alone, Octavia took the two steps down from her throne, and threw her hands around Clarke’s neck, making her stumble back. The Commander clutched her tightly and Clarke looked at Lincoln for help, but he just smiled and shook his head. Panicking a little and unsure of what the appropriate protocol for a situation like this was (if there was one to begin with), Clarke hugged Octavia back and tried to relax.

“I’m so happy that you accepted!”

Clarke let Octavia’s words wash over her, basking in the wonder and the happiness the younger girl was feeling.

“So am I.”

Octavia’s smile was infectious and Clarke smiled back, confusion momentarily forgotten.

“You won’t regret it, I promise.”

There was no way she could actually promise that, but Clarke was grateful nonetheless. It made her feel lighter knowing that Octavia somewhat already approved of her. (One less thing to worry about.)

“Is Bellamy here? I’d like to meet him.”

The Commander finally let her go and shook her head. “He hasn’t arrived yet. I guess you’ll meet him tomorrow.”

Just her luck – agreeing to marry somebody without even knowing the sound of his voice.

Octavia must have sensed her dissatisfaction because she frowned and looked back at Lincoln. “He can come meet you tomorrow before the celebrations if you want. The courtship won’t be official until after, so, it won’t be against the rules.”

“We can’t meet after its official?” Now Clarke was the one frowning; this was one stupid rule.

“Oh, you can, but you can’t be by yourselves.” Octavia laughed at Clarke’s grimace and leaned back into Lincoln, when he hugged her from behind. “If Lincoln and I can do it, you two will survive just fine.”

Clarke arched her eyebrow in surprise. “You two had a courtship?” Nobody had told her that.

“My brother insisted.” The drawl in Octavia’s voice let Clarke know exactly how annoying that had been.

Clarke wanted to ask more questions but one of the Grounders re-entered the tent. Lincoln drew back and Octavia lost her open expression; she was back to being the Commander.

“What is it?”

“There’s a Sky person looking for Clarke.”

“That must be Murphy. I should get going and let the Ark know about tomorrow’s celebrations.”

Octavia nodded. “Of course. We’ll be awaiting you.”

Clarke smiled at her one last time and exited the tent.

The Grounder was long gone, and Clarke was left wandering around looking for Murphy. She had just caught a glimpse of his jacket, when somebody grabbed her arm and spun her around.

It was another Grounder, taller than Clarke, with dark hair and dark eyes. The nearby fire let Clarke notice his rather extensive tattoo on the right side of his neck that disappeared under his clothes, and the sword strapped onto his back.

“Yes?” He didn’t appear hostile, but the way he carried himself put Clarke on an edge.

“Here.” His voice was gruff as he pushed something into Clarke’s hand.

Startled by that, Clarke flinched back, and the bracelet stayed in his hand. Suddenly, Indra’s warning came to mind and cold dread filled her stomach.

“I’m sorry, I can’t accept this.”

He gave her a dirty look and sneered, the flames of the fire painting his face in shadows and giving him an eerie glow.

“Should have figured that garbage like this wouldn’t be up to your standards, Sky girl.”

Before she could react, the bracelet was sent flying into the fire, and the mysterious Grounder was walking away. Clarke gave a shocked cry and dove for the bracelet – she didn’t know why, but it felt important – and managed to save it, with only few of the bones it was made of getting scorched. By the time she looked up, the Grounder had gone.

Clarke gently brushed away the ashes from the bracelet; something in his words had unsettled her, but she couldn’t figure out what exactly.

“What did that Grounder want?” Murphy brushed his shoulder against hers, one hand on his rifle while glaring in the direction the Grounder had disappeared into.

When she failed to answer, he looked her over and noticed the bracelet.

“Aren’t you getting popular amongst the Grounders? Wait until Wells hears about this.”

 _Don’t accept any gifts unless they’re from Bellamy_. Bellamy. Something clicked.

“Murphy, did Bellamy have a tattoo on his neck?”

He smirked. “Why? Is it going to be a deal breaker for you?” But his expression fell flat when he saw the frantic worry in her eyes. “From what I remember he did; it went down all the way to his hipbone.”

Clarke winced, and clenched the bracelet until the little bones bit harshly into her skin.

“What did you do?” He turned her around to face him and she let him; his suspicion was spot-on.

“I think I just offended my future husband.”

“Well _fuck_.”

Clarke agreed with him wholeheartedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we got something resembling a plot, lmao. Comments/questions/feedback are always welcomed.  
> \- M.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this took longer - it was a busy month for me, and between falling sick for 2 weeks and then being buried under stacks of reports and essays for my classes, writing was really the last thing on my mind.
> 
> Your constant support means the world for me, thank you so much!
> 
> Jade was an awesome beta as always, bless you, cupcake!

“So, let me know if I got this right.” Wells leaned on his cane and adjusted the straps of his backpack, using the time to take a breath and assimilate Clarke and Murphy’s words. “After talking with Octavia, who turned out to be more enthusiastic about this whole marriage thing than we expected, some guy comes up to you and offers you a bracelet, which you refuse because Indra told you not to accept gifts from anyone but your future husband, _then_ because of his reaction, you now suspect that the guy is _actually_ said future husband?”

Clarke used the break to check her flashlight’s batteries, and nodded in agreement.

“And you think you’ve managed to make him angry with you?”

“Do you need me to break it down in pictures for you to finally get it?” Murphy snarled from the front, his flashlight swinging almost violently as he turned around to see what was taking them so long.

Noticing Clarke’s rigid posture and the frown on her face, Wells chose to ignore Murphy’s jab and clenched his jaw.

His abdomen was still hurting him and it made it hard to walk, but Wells was adamant in his decision to accompany Clarke and Murphy on their night walk. Getting woken up by bitching Murphy in the middle of the night, with words like “ _Clarke needs you_ ” and “ _She might have fucked up the courtship_ ”, was not Wells’ idea for a pleasant wake up call. But he was still grateful – this was something that was not so easily resolved, and it would need all three of them to set it right. And some outside help, which was why they were going to Anya’s village.

Anya was one of the few Grounders that genuinely liked them – Clarke mostly – and she was their highest and so far _only_ chance at getting some answers and maybe some advice on how to proceed.

“Fuck off.” His comeback was mediocre at best, but Wells couldn’t afford to spare Murphy any more of his attention and energy. “And you’re sure you’ve never met him before?”

Clarke was turning the flashlight in her hands and shrugged – this was the first time Wells was seeing her being so fidgety and distracted, almost pensive in her attempt to figure it out.

“I don’t remember.” She said at last and Wells sighed; she seemed burdened enough as it was and Wells was hesitant to push her.

Murphy, however, wasn’t.

“That’s the thing – you don’t _remember_.”

Clarke turned to regard him silently and Murphy met her gaze head on.

Wells pointed his flashlight at Murphy. “What is he talking about?” Something was happening here and Wells didn’t like being out of the loop.

“Nothing,” Clarke’s tone suggested that the conversation was over and bypassed Murphy as she continued along the path they were taking.

Murphy’s lips tightened and he cursed. “You’re too full of yourself, Griffin.”

His yell did nothing to deter Clarke from her walk, so Murphy turned to face Wells and squinted against the sharp light of the flashlight.

“She hit her head when we took Mount Weather; some parts of her memory about it are still fuzzy around the edges.”

Wells’ astonished “What?” was mostly overshadowed by Clarke’s frustrated “I asked you to keep _one_ thing to yourself, Murphy, and you went and did the opposite!”

She came back huffing, glaring daggers at Murphy, who looked bored with the whole fiasco and leaned on one of the trees for support.

“That’s because you’re being uncharacteristically stupid.”

Her glare didn’t ease and Murphy rolled his eyes.

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about you having a head injury?” Wells’ tone was even and flat, not giving way to his increasing worry and annoyance, but Clarke and Murphy had gotten adept at reading between the lines – he was slowly but steadily getting angry, patience wearing thin.

“Because it was nothing serious.” Clarke ruffled her hair, massaging the still tender spot on the side of her head; few days ago it had been one hell of a bump.

“Except the part where you have some blank spots.” Murphy quipped in, for once staring at Clarke with disapproval she thought only Wells was capable of mustering.

Wells rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly. “Clarke, look at me.” When she stubbornly refused, he prodded her with his cane. “ _Look at me_.”

She did and her shoulders sagged in defeat as she braced for whatever Wells was about to say.

“Your head?”

Clarke’s fingers brushed against the tender spot one more time, before dropping by her sides. It had happened so fast – a small controlled explosion going off in one of the corridors, meant to push them back, slow them down, kill them, a last defense for the Mountain Men. The blast had thrown Clarke across the room, against the wall and her head had exploded with pain. Black spots, pain, dust in the air, blood, ringing in her ears, injured Grounders, _chaos_ – that’s all she remembered from those few precious moments. Anya had been with her and her dislocated shoulder was all Clarke had needed to push her own pain and dizziness aside and focus on making sure that the Grounders that were still alive could continue with the siege. The rest was a blur – Murphy’s concerned face, hugging Monty, shooting one of the Mountain guards in the chest, cages, _so many cages_ , finding Harper (they were late, _too late_ ), tending to an injury after an injury, an endless cycle of relief and guilt and loss and happiness, Octavia’s war cry when they finally took the mountain, the never-ending horde of Grounder prisoners (pale, weak, but with fire burning in their eyes, white undergarments stained red, yelling about their victory as loudly as the rest).

“I’m better.” At Wells’ disbelieving look, she reluctantly corrected herself. “I’m _getting_ better.”

Wells counted to ten and turned off his flashlight, blending with the dark and hiding his expression from sight. Frankly, he wasn’t surprised that she had kept it from him – with him still recovering from his operation and already nervous about the Mount Weather attack, she probably didn’t want to put more strain on him. Still, it hurt; he thought they were over keeping secrets from each other, especially when it came to their well-being (yes, even Murphy’s as much as it stung to admit that).

“Does your mother know? Jackson?” But it was rhetorical; he would have heard – Abby Griffin was not one to let a thing like that go lightly, she would have created a ruckus how Clarke was wrong to want to go in the first place. And if Jackson knew, then Abby knew as well, so he was out of the question as well. “A person with some medical knowledge?” There weren’t many of those on the Ark.

Her silence was more than enough to get an answer to that, too.

She pulled her shoulders back and took the few steps that were separating them until she could bump her shoulder against his.

“I told Murphy what to look for if it was something serious.” Murphy did a sloppy salute when Wells glanced at him. “You know how he gets – being a pain in my ass all the time, always hovering over my shoulder, and poking me to judge my reactions.”

The smile was on his lips before Wells could stop it – that definitely was something Murphy would do, looking after Clarke in his own way and annoying her the rest of the time, and with flourish and drive he usually didn’t put into his work.

“You think it’s possible that you’ve met him then?”

“Knowing our luck, yes.” Murphy ruffled his hair and let his head hit the tree with a soft thump.

Clarke hummed in agreement next to Wells and turned around until she was facing him. “Are you mad?”

Wells made the mistake to look at her – she was biting her lip, eyes wide and worried as she stared right back, so earnest in her sincerity that he didn’t stand a chance.

“No, not really.”

Her smile was worth it, though. “Thank you.”

He turned his flashlight back on. “What are friends for?”

Murphy made a retching sound. “You two make me sick.”

Clarke swatted Murphy on the back of his head and Wells grinned.

They were going to overthrow this mountain as well.

-

Even with sleep-tousled hair and disgruntled expression on her face, Anya still looked intimidating.

Clarke’s smile was genuine when they finally got to see her, and it grew wider when she noticed that despite her protests, Anya had kept the make-shift immobilizer for her shoulder that Clarke had made and was actually using it.

“Do you Sky People have no concept of time?”

Clarke winced – it was close to four in the morning after all – but they couldn’t afford to waste more time.

“I’m sorry, Anya, it’s urgent.”

The Grounder considered the situation for a moment, before she nodded and waved her guard aside. Then, she turned around to enter the main building and Clarke, Wells and Murphy followed.

Anya sprawled on one of the few chairs, leaving them to pick a spot around the round table.

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

The bone bracelet sat heavy in her pocket, yet Clarke found the strength to accept Anya’s words with a smile.

“News travel fast.”

“You’d be surprised at how many people are interested in you, Clarke.” There was amusement in Anya’s tone despite the hardness in her eyes that told of the seriousness of her statement.

Clarke paused and Murphy shifted in his chair, also having caught on Anya’s allusion.

“It is, after all, probably the most important courtship since the Commander’s.”

“Actually, that’s the reason we’re here.” Wells cut right to the heart of the matter; Anya knew them, they knew her (somewhat), this polite parade was not something they needed to do.

That appeared to intrigue her and Clarke sneaked a hand in her pocket to run her fingers over the smooth surface of the bone bracelet; surprisingly, it gave her the needed boost to face this.

“What’s going to happen tonight? How does the courtship even start? And for heaven’s sake, what’s with the rules?”

Anya laughed, a full-throated open laugh, which ended with a shake of her head. “Only you, Clarke, will agree to something like this without knowing what you’re getting yourself into.”

Clarke frowned and tried to object, but Anya shouted something in the Grounders’ language and one of the guards entered. The two exchanged few words, and then the guard left.

A minute later, two guys came in carrying a plate with meat, few pieces of the sweet bread the Grounders loved to make, a jug of mead and four little metal cans.

Anya thanked them and poured a moderate amount of the mead in her can before downing it all in one breath. Brushing the moisture from her mouth, Anya pushed the plate closer to them.

“Eat; this is going to take a while.”

Murphy was the first to fill his can and taste the mead. After deeming it passable, he filled Clarke’s can and pushed the jug towards Wells, who opted to skip drinking for now and instead broke a piece of the sweet bread. The meat was a bit stringy, but the herbs were just right, and it tasted amazing despite the fact that it was long cold.

“You’ll meet the Elders tonight. With Ems dead, they’re down to three now – Angela, Crux, and Merley. Angela is the one you need to look out for. If you want this courtship to succeed you’ll need her on your side or she’ll make it damn near impossible for you to keep this treaty from falling apart.”

Clarke swallowed a piece of the meat and washed it down with some mead.

“How do I do that?”

“Prove her that you’re a good match for Bellamy.”

Murphy snorted and waved his hand around. “You hear that, Clarke? Just be a good match.”

Wells kicked him under the table and Murphy kicked him back.

Used to their antics by now, Clarke focused on Anya. “Why Angela? Why not the others?”

“She’s a frail looking lady but she’s the one who holds the most power and influence amongst all the Grounder tribes. She’s also the one who looked after Octavia and Bellamy when their mother died, and the reason why Octavia was made Commander even though there were two other candidates for Commander.”

Politics, Clarke inwardly groaned, she _hated_ politics.

“Right. I’ll…figure something out.”

Clarke was aware how pathetic that sounded, but everybody chose to ignore it.

“There’ll be a feast from what I remember, ten people on each side plus the Elders. You’ll start with a blessing from the Elders and then Bellamy will give you the first courting gift – it can be anything, usually it’s something small that you can wear every day as a token of his intention. Then you eat, talk, get to know each other.”

That sounded normal; well, nowhere near normal by the Ark standards, but Clarke had expected something a lot more drastic.

“Huh,” Clarke had no idea how Murphy managed to sound so let down while still chewing his food. “I was hoping for at least some naked dancing and blood sacrifices or something.”

Anya’s glare was a lot more effective than Clarke’s – Murphy raised his hands in surrender and went back to eating (he was never one to refuse free food, not after the Ark).

“And the rules?”

Anya shrugged despite her bad shoulder.

“You can’t be seen favouring other Grounders than Bellamy, so no accepting gifts or favours from anyone but him, and if you do, then it has to be in his presence, with his permission.”

Wells used his bread to soak up some of the herbs from the meat. “Why the restrictions?”

“Old habits.” Anya’s response was flippant at best, but somehow Clarke suspected it wasn’t just that. “Same reason why once the Courtship is official you won’t be allowed to spend time alone with Bellamy, there’ll always be a third person with you two.”

Everything else she could understand, but this right here was the one thing that left her the most confused – wasn’t the point of the whole courtship to get to know one another? And if so, why was it necessary for a third person to breathe down their necks?

“But why?”

Anya’s smile was all teeth. “We can’t have you consummating the courtship before your Moon night.”

Murphy choked on his mead, and started coughing and laughing at the same time, red in the face from the lack of oxygen. “Now this right here is _golden_.”

Wells next to her had frozen in his place and Clarke could swear that his ears were red with embarrassment.

Clarke herself was a bit flustered and she groaned when Murphy kept on laughing his wheezy little laughs while clutching at his stomach. “I don’t have the intention of sleeping with somebody I barely know!”

“That’s what you say now.”

She hid her face in her hands and threw a piece of her bread at Murphy; right now, Anya seeing her childish side was the least of her worries.

“And the gifts?” She managed at last, peering at Anya from behind her fingers and blond hair.

“All made by hand specifically for the courtship. You’re lucky – Bellamy is a gifted craftsman.”

Clarke felt the uneasiness creeping in. Bellamy really was a master craftsman, the bracelet was exquisite – every little bone was polished to perfection, the brown leather cord that was holding them together was braided in little knots and twists. It fitted snuggly around her wrist the one time she tried it on and she loved the two little mismatched glass beads at the end of the cord. Thankfully, the fire hadn’t left any lasting damage on it; it would have been such a shame otherwise.

“He’s supposed to give me the first one tonight?”

“Yes.” After a moment, Anya narrowed her eyes. “Did he- of course he did. Show me.”

“I-“ Clarke wanted to plead innocence, but this was too big to play dumb.

She took the bracelet out and gingerly placed it on top of the table. Anya looked it over, nodding in appreciation, but she was careful not to touch it.

“Why aren’t you wearing it then?”

Murphy placed his can on the table and flicked it over, watching it as it rolled slowly across the table and left droplets behind. “Because her soon to be courtship partner is a bit of a jerk. Clarke didn’t recognize him in the dark and he took it a bit too hard.” His eyes were cold and his jaw was clenched – this was his look when he was getting ready for a fight.

Anya assessed him, trying to make him back down, but he was holding his ground and endured her heavy gaze, refusing to give her the pleasure of seeing him cower. Clarke wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that he was holding tightly onto his knife. He was finally dropping all pretense and sarcasm and being serious about this.

“It was a misunderstanding; tell us how to fix it.”

The Grounder pushed her mead away.

“You’ll do well to listen.”

Clarke bit back her relieved smile and mentally made a note to see what she could do to get Murphy a Grounder dagger (he had been secretly salivating after one since Lincoln pulled one on him); he had definitely earned it.

-

Clarke fiddled with her jacket sleeve making sure that the bracelet was visible (and if you ask Murphy the white bones shone like beacons in the dark) and pushed her hair back in place. She was as prepared as she could get and she was aware that anything else was out of her hands, but she still couldn’t help but worry.

Murphy touched her elbow and she turned around to see Octavia and her entourage approaching. Clarke’s group slowed down and she felt Wells when he fell in step behind her, his steady presence keeping her calm.

“Clarke.” Octavia greeted her and offered her hand.

Clarke grasped it by the wrist; it was a greeting that she was familiar with thanks to Anya. Octavia’s fingers were strong and unrelenting in their hold.

“You’ve chosen well.” The Commander nodded her head, indicating the group of people behind Clarke and Clarke’s chest swelled with pride.

She was pleased with her group as well – Wells, Murphy, Kane, her mother, Nathan and his dad, Monty, Drew, and Sterling. Apart from Kane and her mother, the rest were firmly on her side (Miller’s dad was still an unknown, but Nathan was working on that). She hadn’t been sure about bringing Monty and Miller in the first place, but they were starting to feel too cooped up in the camp, and after Nathan almost started a fight, Clarke decided they needed some time away. Raven stayed behind with Finn, and Wick was keeping an eye on them.

“Thank you.”

From the people behind Octavia, Clarke recognized Lincoln, Indra, Anya and supposedly Bellamy. The others were faces Clarke was familiar with but didn’t know the names of.

Not one for making small talk, Octavia turned to her left and made her brother step out.

“This is Bellamy. Bell, this is Clarke.”

Clarke tried to smile at him, but her attempt fell flat when she noticed his blank face.

“We’ve met.” Was his curt reply and Clarke had to remind herself that punching him in the face was not an option here (not yet).

“You have?” Octavia was surprised for a moment before the light dancing along Clarke’s bracelet caught her attention. The stare she levelled Bellamy with spoke about an impending scowling. “I see. Well, maybe we should give you a moment then.”

The Grounders followed their Commander and with a reassuring smile from Clarke, the Ark entourage did as well.

“You’re wearing it.” He sounded confused; the furrow between his eyebrows only added to that.

Clarke tugged on the two hanging cords from the bracelet and the beads clicked together. “You gave it to me.”

“You didn’t seem too keen on accepting it in the first place.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t recognize you at first and you were fast to leave.”

He smiled crookedly and Clarke’s gaze was drawn to his full chapped lips, to the small mess of freckles under his eyes and on the bridge of his nose, the length of his lashes and the pleasant shade of his deep brown eyes. All of a sudden she was aware of the fact that he was actually _attractive_ and she nearly shivered under his intense scrutiny.

“I suppose I looked differently covered in blood in Mount Weather.”

Flashes of naked skin, a bloody syringe in one hand, hair matted in red, a wild look in dark eyes, ink spirals twisting and turning and begging to be chased with fingers.

Clarke blinked and chased the image away for now, storing it for future inquiry.

“And I was distracted then. Shall we start anew? I’m Clarke, Clarke Griffin of the Sky People.”

“ _Belomi kom Trigedakru_.”

He offered his left arm and she did too, belatedly realizing that that was the arm her bracelet was on, and he let his fingers wrap around it carefully before twisting her arm a bit and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the white bones, keeping her gaze with his.

“You’ll be one of us soon.”

Her breath hitched and she wanted to protest the treatment; this guy was impossible – one moment he was angry with her, turning his back on her, leaving her confused and worried, then he was cold, aloof, cautious, teasing, making her head spinning – one after the other, with no break in between. Just _who_ exactly was Bellamy?

“You’ll have a long time to romance her, boy. Move along, I don’t have all night.” Yelled a voice from behind them making Clarke jump and pull her hand back while Bellamy chuckled.

“As always, you’re completely right, Ela.”

The woman that came to them was well over her sixties, with stern face and graying hair, leaning on her staff (that, conveniently, had quite the sharp blade attached to it), and excluding power and confidence one wouldn’t usually associate with her wiry small body.

The black eyes that met Clarke’s spoke of ages of wisdom and sharp wit, cunningness and spilled blood, and Clarke fought the urge to shrink back from her.

“We shall see about that.” With that Ela – which Clarke concluded must be short for Angela – made her way to the tent the Grounders had set up for the celebration of the courtship.

If that was the Elder that Anya had warned her about, Clarke had a lot of work to do.

Bellamy tossed the hair out of his eyes and glanced at Clarke, the amusement making his eyes come alive and appearing much livelier, more approachable.

“Shall we?”

Clarke closed her eyes, emptied her mind and found that silver line inside her that pulsed in beat with her heart and soul, and let it ground her, relax and calm her.

_I can do this._

She moved a step forward, opened her eyes, and took another, and then another, and another, until she was no longer thinking about the motion, and then the flap of the tent opened and she entered side by side with Bellamy.

The cheers were deafening.

But all Clarke was aware of was the comforting weight of the bracelet and the clinking of the beads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ba-dum-tss! Next chapter we'll see the Elders' blessing and Clarke will have to be careful with Angela as the actual plot starts to take shape ;)
> 
> \- M.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My unexpected short hiatus is over. Thank you for your unwavering support and for being patient precious cupcakes!
> 
> This chapter begins with the ceremony and as such you'll be faced with a **self-inflicted injury and a bit of blood** but it shouldn't make you squeamish as I haven't really gotten into detail about it; I've explored more the symbolism behind it but I thought I should warn you all the same. It's mainly Clarke's side of the story and it features quite a bit of Bellamy, so please enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks to [Jade](http://theblakes.co.vu/) once again for beta'ing this!

" _The celebration and the ceremony are basically the first tests." Anya shifted in her seat and let her injured arm rest on the table. "You'll be judged from the first moment you step into that tent - from what you're wearing and how you're holding yourself to the people you've brought to represent you."_

_Apprehension was making her queasy and Clarke pushed aside her drink and refused the piece of bread Wells offered her._

" _You need ten people in total, including you. Choose carefully. While the Commander might know some of your people and approve of them, the Elders don't, and this courtship relies heavily on what the Elders deem worthy."_

_Murphy and Wells shared a glance and Clarke knew that the moment this meeting was over, they would have a list with possible candidates._

" _The ceremony itself can vary from courtship to courtship. I don't know which version you'll get, but you'll need to be careful."_

_Wells swallowed the piece of meat he was chewing and brushed the bread crumbs off his jacket. "Is she going to be in any danger?"_

" _She'll always be in danger until this is over." Anya drained the last of the mead in her can. "But those who don't agree with the courtship won't act tonight, not with Angela present. Clarke might shed few drops of blood if the ceremony asks for it, but that will be all."_

" _So there_ is _some blood sacrifice after all," Murphy smirked and poured more mead into both his and Anya's cans. "Good thing that you're used to that, Clarke."_

_Clarke kicked him under the table and his smile turned into a grimace; Anya sighed and Wells broke off another piece of the sweet bread._

Despite the rust on it, the dagger still managed to look deadly and imposing.

Angela offered it handle first to Clarke and she took it, being careful not to let the claws serving as cross-guard nick her skin. Clarke knew what she was supposed to do - Anya had told her about the rites she familiar with, and this one was one of them - but the rust on the blade and the thought that she had to draw a line across her hand with it made her feel uneasy. It wasn't the coming pain as much as the possibility of catching some disease from it that had her heating the blade over one of the candles around them.

Nobody reacted to that, though she caught one of the Elders - Crux - scoffing at her and she had to really focus to keep her hand steady when she dipped the hot blade into one of the water goblets on the table.

Had she _already_ done something that spoke ill of her?

But there was no time to think it over and Clarke let the sharp blade slide across the inner side of her right wrist, creating a shallow cut in its wake and bringing blood to the surface. She offered the dagger to Bellamy, who did the same, and Angela brought their wrists over a chipped ceramic bowl, adding their blood to the other ingredients that were already inside. Then, the Elder mixed them together and dipped in her thumb.

She left a red imprint on Clarke's lips and then on Bellamy's. It smelled of herbs and tasted like mead, with the sharp undertone of iron. The rest of the mixture Angela poured over their cuts and Clarke had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop her hand from jerking; it stung pretty badly and she itched to rub it away.

Bellamy clasped her hand by her bloody wrist and she did the same to his. He smiled at her and tightened his grip when he noticed her silent shaky exhale - his way of sending her a small encouragement that she was doing well. (Or so she hoped.)

Merley put her hand on top of theirs and took one of the lit candles. She brought it to Clarke's face and bore her unseeing eyes into hers.

"Are you entering this courtship out of your free will?"

The heat of the flame was making Clarke's eyes water, but she managed to blink away the tears and held Merley's stare. (Clarke couldn't help but wonder how the Elder knew where her face was when she was completely blind.)

"I am."

Her breath barely made the flame flutter and Merley nodded her head in approval. She drew back and let Clarke have the space needed to lean forward and kiss Bellamy on the cheek.

This close, Clarke could see the freckles under Bellamy's right eye that formed a little star and she hid her smile against his skin, letting her lips brush his cheek and leave a red trace behind. It was weird kissing a person she barely knew, but it was part of the ceremony and Clarke didn't have much of a choice. Not that it was a chore to kiss him on the cheek; she just would have preferred to do it of her free will and want.

As if sensing her thoughts on the matter, Bellamy's fingers twitched against her wrist and his eyes darkened as he too answered with "I am." His peck was firmer compared to hers, yet didn't feel intrusive and Clarke was more aware of the warmth he left behind than the unpleasant sticky imprint of his lips.

Bellamy's blood was slowly trickling down her fingers and she could feel his pulse beating in tandem with hers. That shouldn't have made her feel excited but the way he held himself, so confident and tall, his grip strong and warm, and his dark brown eyes not once straying from her face - it made her heart beat faster and she didn't know what to make of it.

It was too soon to call it attraction, but Clarke was sure that soon it would be nothing but the truth. There was something in Bellamy that made her curious and eager for the times their bodies would get in touch and lightning zaps of electricity would leave goosebumps in their wake as they would race down her spine and have her paying attention to nothing else but their point of touch.

Clarke was snapped out of her thoughts when Bellamy let go of her wrist and he lifted an eyebrow when she reacted a bit late. Her hand felt empty and cold without his and she let it hang listlessly at her side. But as Angela stepped up to continue the ceremony, Clarke pushed those silly thoughts away and focused on the task at hand.

"The gift?" The Elder addressed Bellamy and he turned around motioning for a timid looking Grounder girl to approach.

Clarke's breath hitched - the girl was carrying the most magnificent fur cloak she had ever seen. It was dark blue, almost black and as Bellamy took it out of her arms, Clarke noticed a tiny bone pin that she suspected was supposed to keep the cloak in place.

He draped it around her shoulders and Clarke was pleasantly surprised by the softness and lightness of the cloak. Somewhere in the back, Murphy was snickering about princesses and capes and the lack of white horses, but her heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears and she paid him no attention.

"The cloak is yours if you will have me."

Clarke was silent for too long and Wells cleared his throat loudly from behind her. She bit her lip and resisted the urge to turn around and stick her tongue out at him. Couldn't she enjoy the moment?

"I'll have the cloak." Bellamy took her left hand in his. "And I'll have you too."

He smirked, lifted her hand and placed a kiss on top of the bone bracelet that sat there, just like he had done right before the ceremony.

People cheered and clapped around them as the Elders gave them the last blessing, but Clarke was mesmerized by the playfulness in Bellamy's eyes and the promises that lurked below the surface. He had her completely enchanted and Clarke felt like she had lost a battle.

Yet, she didn't feel bad at all.

-

Mingle, that was what Anya had said she had to do.

But _fuck_ it was exhausting.

Clarke would catch glimpses of her entourage as she mingled, letting polite words roll off her tongue and controlling her expression, straining to remember every single bit of information and storing it in the back of her mind for later use. Wells was making small talk with a Grounder and Murphy brooded next to him (at least he was staying out of trouble). Monty and Nathan were perfectly content to sit at their table and sample the food while Drew and Sterling were trying to outdrink a pair of Grounders. Her mother, Kane and Nathan's dad were engaged in conversation with Lincoln and Indra, and Octavia and Bellamy were having a quiet talk at the end of the long wooden table.

She lost track of time - the Elders' questions sure kept her on her toes and required her full attention - and she gratefully welcomed Bellamy's touch on her elbow as he steered her away from them and made her take one of the chairs, a full plate of food sitting on the table in front. Just now smelling the seasoning of the dish, Clarke realized how hungry she truly was as her mouth watered and her empty stomach complained. She broke off a piece of the bread and dipped it into the thick broth, quietly moaning as the rich flavour filled her mouth and warmed her insides.

Bellamy chuckled as he sat next to her and Clarke flushed, hurrying to swallow her bite and cover her embarrassing reaction.

"Thank you. I guess I'm quite hungry."

He inclined his head and scratched the bandage on his right hand; Clarke's was itching as well, but she knew better than to aggravate the self-inflicted injury.

She ate to the sounds of Sky people and Grounders talking and Bellamy watching her every move. It was unnerving but also strangely comforting, like the times Murphy would keep watch over her or Wells would help her stand her ground against her mother.

"Is it weird?"

Clarke pushed away her plate and blinked at him, confused and at a loss.

"Our customs, the way we live. Is it weird for you?"

She didn't answer right away; instead, she chose to really think it through.

"I wouldn't say weird. Different, yes, but not weird. It's like the more I get to know you and your culture, the more your rituals make sense. Of course, I'm pretty sure that there will always be things that leave me baffled or that I don't agree with, but just because I don't understand them or believe in them doesn't mean I get the right to judge." Clarke turned in her seat to face him and tucked a stubborn curl behind her ear. "I bet some of _our_ customs will seem weird to you."

"Just how different is it living among the stars?"

"It felt normal because it was the only thing I knew. We were told stories of Earth and how it used to be, but all we knew were the metal corridors of the Ark; Earth was just another unreachable dream for us until that changed too."

Bellamy didn't appear to be quite satisfied with her answer and Clarke decided to sate some more of his interest for the moment.

"The Ark was made of twelve stations that came together so that we could survive in space. Each station housed people from different countries and they specialized in different tasks. I was from Alpha Station, my mom worked in the Ark Medical while my dad was an engineer in Mecha. You can say that we had it better than most - Alpha was definitely one of the best places to live in." Not that it had protected her father in the end.

"That sounds like an easy life. No wonder your friend called you a princess." Bellamy looked over her shoulder and Clarke turned her head to the side to see Murphy saluting her with his drink.

It seemed she hadn't been the only one to hear his comment.

She was about to give Bellamy a talk down about how no, Alpha station or not, she hadn't been privileged at all (because nothing screamed elite like getting thrown into prison and having your dad floated for treason) when something else caught her attention.

"Wait," she frowned and caught Bellamy's amused gaze. "You know what a princess means?"

Somehow, it was the wrong thing to say.

At once his expression closed off and the humor in his eyes got replaced by anger. Chills ran down Clarke's neck as she watched him sneer and the friendly banter got forgotten. His whole body was strung tight like a bow ready to snap and snap he did.

"I may not have grown up in a castle among the clouds, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid, _princess_."

Bellamy went to push his chair back, but Clarke gripped his arm and held tight.

"Would you fucking stop doing this?" She narrowed her eyes and glared, her anger rising in response to his.

He leaned forward and his warm breath washed over her face and had her unconsciously leaning in until his cold words had her flinching back.

"Stop what? Stop being myself? I'm sorry to ruin your little fantasy, _princess_ , but this is who I am. You, on the other hand, need to get off your high horse and stop acting all superior to me."

Her fingers dug into his arm - his _right_ arm - and she experienced grim satisfaction when her nails scratched his open gash and he winced. The fucking idiot deserved it for always jumping to the wrong conclusions around her.

Clarke could feel the tension in his arm and she relaxed her grip a bit, cautious of his reaction. "I've never undermined you or looked down on you, so get that foolish idea out of your head. I was merely surprised that useless notions like princess and castles and fairy tales had survived and found a place in this new world we live in."

The weight of Bellamy's gaze was almost impossible to bear, but Clarke held strong until he found the answer he was looking for. He leaned back in his chair and some of the tension left his frame.

He regarded her for a moment and then started speaking. "When she was little, Octavia had trouble falling asleep. My mother used to read her stories from this old book we had to help her feel at ease and drift off. When my mother died, I took over." There was a hint of sadness in his voice and Clarke held her breath, afraid to disrupt the atmosphere. "Even now, I still remember most of the stories."

It was not the apology she wanted but Bellamy was offering her an olive branch and she was willing to take it and try again.

"You like reading then?" She let go of his wrist and the blood under her fingernails had her feeling guilty; she had wanted to make him stay and listen, and he had, but she had also made him bleed again.

He didn't push her hands away when she pulled his sleeve up and unwrapped the bloody bandage to look over the damage she had inflicted.

"I do, but books are scarce these days. Polis has some but trading for them is hell."

"Do you have a favorite book then? Or a story?"

Thankfully, the cut didn't look any worse - Clarke had only managed to re-open it again. She dipped the bandage in her water, gently cleaned the gash and then wrapped the bandage around his wrist once more.

"Not really, though I'm partial to mythology, and history fascinates me."

Reluctantly, she let go of his arm and let her hands fall into her lap. Her fingers found the beads of her bracelet and started turning them around; that was quickly turning into a new nervous tick she couldn't seem to break.

"My knowledge of mythology is rather limited I'm afraid, history is my stronger side."

The last traces of irritation disappeared from his face and he smiled cheekily.

"Could it be that the princess is actually admitting to not being good at something?"

Clarke rolled her eyes and mentally cursed Murphy for his big mouth. She had a feeling that Bellamy was getting rather attached to the nickname; as if having one person harass her was not enough.

"Drop the princess thing. And I'll have you know that I'm not perfect. I just..." Here, she struggled for words. The conversation was going in a direction too close to home and tonight, she didn't feel like breaching that particular topic.

But he seemed to understand. "You just try your best."

Her surprise must have showed on her face because he just shrugged and used his good hand to mess his hair.

"My brother is pretty much the same."

Clarke nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Octavia's voice. She hadn't heard her coming and the Commander had spoken from right behind her back. Bellamy straightened in his seat and scoffed at his sister's teasing words.

"I'm sorry to break your cozy setting, but the celebration is over for the night. Clarke, your people are waiting for you."

And indeed, most of her entourage was leaving through the opening in the tent while Wells and Murphy were looking at her direction and waiting for her to join them. Disappointment curled in her chest; she had been hoping to spend more time with Bellamy, getting to know him better.

He stood up and she did as well.

"I'll come by tomorrow morning."

Clarke nodded in agreement and he wavered for a moment before gently brushing fingers over her bracelet in goodbye. His earnest expression had her biting her lip to stop her smile from showing. God, he was confusing and quick to anger and was driving her crazy most of the time, but fuck it if he wasn't adorable and had his moments.

Octavia smirked knowingly and bid Clarke goodnight, pushing her brother away and letting Clarke get to Wells and Murphy.

Wells was smiling softly while Murphy was shaking his head.

"What?" Clarke felt rather defensive and crossed her arms across her chest.

"My poor lamb is so taken with the wolf that she doesn't notice the sharp teeth around her neck before it gets too late."

Clarke glared and pushed past him and walked out of the tent. She could do without his morbid humor raining down on her.

"And, by the way," his shout had the rest of the entourage turning around to witness what it was about. "That kiss stain on your cheek looks ridiculous up close!"

She was vaguely aware that Wells hit Murphy with his cane as she furiously wiped at her cheek, trying to get the red paste off (as well as to push back the memory of Bellamy's lips against her skin).

Fucking Murphy, she was going to kill him one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the courtship is finally official! Clarke finally made Bellamy stop running away from her after he, once again, got the wrong impression, Murphy is still a jackass and Wells is definitely praying for patience. ~~aren't we all~~
> 
> I think I've mention it before, but in case I haven't - the flashback in the beginning is how the rest of the courtship rules and rituals will be revealed. I'm not sure if there will be a flashback in every chapter from now on, but when you see one, you'll know what to expect :) Looking forward to hearing your thoughts about this!
> 
> \- M.


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